A Perfect Replica
by Slip of the apple
Summary: Wholove Prompt: "Omg what if Merlin has a room specially made up for Arthur when he returns and it's basically a replica of his room in Camelot with a fireplace and stuff so Arthur has a place he can go in modern times that isn't so overwhelming for him and they end up sleeping there once they get together properly and it's their little escape from the outside world." (complete?)


Author Note: This is maybe complete? It was written in response to a random Tumblr post, and I didn't originally intend to write any more. There are little ideas rambling in the back of my mind, though, so I may sporadically add new 100-word snippets...

* * *

1.  
"What is this?"

Merlin blinked at the incredulous tone. He'd thought Arthur would be pleased. Everything in the room was just right. A perfect replica.

Gold filigree on crimson drapes. Iron candelabra dripping wax. Smoke stains on the walls. Flagstone floors and leaded windows. A wooden door that took half a dozen hired men to install. An exact reproduction of an ancient cabinet, complete with washing jug.

He'd obsessively searched the internet for almost a year before he found an artist who could create accurate carvings from half remembered sketches. It had cost a fortune and been worth every bit.

2.  
He'd bought the house a generation ago when it had come to auction. It had been just shy of dilapidated, but the layout of the attic rooms were an echo of a memory. It might've been easier to simply commission the perfect house, but he worried a new build wouldn't have the same feel.

Of course, he could have simply started building earlier, and let it acquire an aged atmosphere. He was not always as wise as he pretended, though, and the thought hadn't occurred to him until too late.

Besides, this attic had exactly the right sort of fireplace.

3.  
Regardless, by the time his king stepped into the room, it was absolutely ready. There was even clean bedding. He'd changed the sheets weekly for the past two decades out of habit mostly, and because he didn't want Arthur whining about musty linens. The drapes might have been a bit moth-eaten, but it wasn't really that noticeable.

"What do you mean?" he asked, offended now. "It's your room."

"Yes, I can see that. But why is it exactly like my old room?" Arthur's brow was furrowed in such a familiar way that Merlin felt his heart crack a little more.

4.  
"Because I thought you'd like it?" It came out almost a question, and Merlin tried not to grimace. He groped for a semblance of half-remembered mockery to hide his loss for words. "There's a sofa downstairs if you'd rather," he said, bowing slightly and gesturing back out the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'm not sleeping on a couch, Merlin. It's just this is all a little," he trailed off, looking around. "Unsettling."

Merlin frowned. "That's exactly what I was trying to avoid," he said. "I thought a bit of familiarity would make you more comfortable."

5.  
Arthur shook his head and wandered over to a scarred oaken table. "No, you're right. It's just that it's odd seeing a part of my past in the middle of so much that is new. I suppose I'll adjust to it."

Merlin hated the quality of Arthur's smile. He hated even more the knot that sat heavy in his throat.

"Well, then. I'll just go make you some supper then."

He watched as Arthur sat himself gingerly at the head of the table. He had to remind his feet how to turn and walk before Arthur could notice him staring.

6.  
"What are you looking at?" Merlin set the earthenware platter down on the table.

"Does it ever stop?" Arthur asked, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the window.

Merlin moved to stand beside him and craned his neck to look out the cloudy glass.

"The city?" he asked, curious. "Not really." It didn't bother him anymore, the constant motion and commotion. He could see how it might bother Arthur, though. Even in Camelot, there were hours of the night when no one walked the streets.

The disquiet in Arthur's eyes was so subtle, anyone else would have missed it.

7.  
Chips and curry at midnight isn't always a good idea. In point of fact, it's usually a terrible idea. Indigestion was a small price to pay, though, for laughter and fond exasperation.

"Of course your house would be right next to a tavern."

"It wasn't a pub when I bought the place!" Merlin protested.

Arthur rolled his eyes and demanded another slice of pie. "And more of that frozen milk," he reminded Merlin.

"Your armor won't fit," Merlin warned. "And I have no idea where we'd get you a new set made."

"Merlin, I don't think they wear armor anymore."

8.  
Arthur's typing was abysmal chicken pecks, and his spelling was often archaic. Still, he grasped the concept of the internet with surprising swiftness.

He crashed the computer twice from downloading viruses.

"It was flashing, Merlin! And it said I should click it."

Most of his time, though, was spent trying to catch up. "It was all mostly nice and normal until a century ago," he groaned. "After that, nothing makes any sense."

"The industrial revolution," Merlin said sagely.

"Did you do that?" Arthur asked, eyes narrowed.

Merlin coughed. "I might have helped it along."

"This is why magic is evil."

9.  
A week after he awoke, he finally plucked up the nerve to enter a series of names into Google.

"They think I did WHAT with Morgana?"

The roar echoed through the entire house, and Merlin winced and set his book down. By the time he climbed the stairs to the attic and pushed open the door, Arthur was pacing the room and gesturing incoherently at the computer.

"Have you read that ridiculousness?"

"About you sleeping with your half sister? And Mordred being your bastard son? Yes, in fact, I have."

Arthur sputtered. "It's just." He paused, at a loss. "Eww."

10.  
He was much quieter when he read about Gwen. "They make her sound like a harlot in some of these stories," he murmured, and Merlin wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He was more than a little surprised when Arthur leaned into him rather than pulling away.

"Well, you can't believe everything you read," Merlin said with false cheerfulness. "For instance, the stories also say that my father was a demon."

A small smile touched Arthur's lips. "It would explain a great deal."

Merlin nudged him and pulled away, letting his hand linger on Arthur's back for the briefest moment.

11.  
They had a hint of why he'd returned. Pundits prophesied war, newspapers opined environmental disaster. There were harbingers and portents.

"The waiting sucks."

"Where did you learn that word?" Merlin asked as he laid Arthur's clothes out.

"Some film." Arthur waved a hand vaguely and continued flipping through the papers. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I wish something would happen. I have no idea what my purpose is."

"If you're so bored, you could help clean up around here." Merlin thought it was a valid point, but he ducked nonetheless when a boot came flying at his head.

12.  
The bombs, when they came, were a great and terrible sight. They fell in the blackest night, and for the briefest moment Merlin saw all of London lit as though by the sun. Then the smoke began to cloud the air, and he ran for the stairs.

Arthur was at the top, rushing toward him, and Merlin screamed for him to turn back. "The attic is protected."

He stumbled once, and cursed vehemently when Arthur was there to jerk him to his feet. They made it through the attic door, though, before the first spray of shrapnel shattered a window.

13.  
The wards and protections that he had woven into every floorboard, every bit of plaster, every ceiling beam muffled the sounds of destruction. After a while, they closed the curtains against the flash of fire.

"You should go to sleep," Merlin said finally, stirring from his chair. "You'll have a great deal of work to do tomorrow."

"What am I supposed to do? Show up in my armor with Excalibur at my side? They'll think I'm mad."

"You'll make an impressive sight, though," Merlin pointed out almost cheerfully. "Climbing through the ruins like some ancient hero."

Arthur sighed in agreement.

14.  
"Why do you still insist on doing this?" Arthur asked as Merlin deftly folded his clothing and tucked it away.

Merlin raised an eyebrow. "Besides the obvious answer that this was what I was born to do? That this has always been and will always be my role?"

Arthur blinked. Nodded.

"Because you can't manage it yourself. And what sort of Once and Future King would you be if you showed up in rusty, stained armor?"

"Merlin!" Arthur's warning look only made Merlin smile wider.

"Yes?"

Arthur sighed and pulled back the covers. "There's room enough for both of us."

15.  
Merlin almost offered to sleep on the floor, but his bones were ancient, even if they didn't look it.

"Just for tonight," Arthur warned. "And you stay on your side of the bed."

"Of course, your majesty." Merlin scooted as far over as he could, making a great show of it.

Time passed and neither man slept. "You'll figure it out," Merlin murmured into the darkness. "And I'll be there to help."

"That's supposed to comfort me?" Arthur asked, but he reached out between them. Merlin moved closer until their fingers were intertwined and their foreheads touched.

"Does it?"

"Always."


End file.
